r. 416.B 1412 fi CONTEMPORARY CLASSICS Alan Bennett: Plays . 2 Kafka’s Dick - The Insurance Man - The Old Country An Englishman Abroad - A Question of Attribution Introduced by the author— =@®@ BRITISH COUNCIL @@ Russia Alan Bennett Plays Two Alan Bennett first appeared on the stage in 1960 as one of the authors and performers of the revue Beyond the Fringe. His stage plays include Forty Years On, Getting On, Habeas Corpus, The Old Country and Enjoy, and he has written many television plays, notably A Day Out, Sunset Across the Bay, A Woman of No Importance and the series of monologues Talking Heads. An adaptation of his television play, An Englishman Abroad was paired with A Question of Attribution in the double bill Single Spies, first produced at the National Theatre in 1988. This was followed in r990 by his adaption of The Wind in the Willows and in 1991 by The Madness of George III, both produced at the National Theatre.by the same author plays PLAYS ONE (Forty Years On, Getting On. Habeas Corpus and Enjoy) OFFICE SUITE THE WIND IN THE WILLOws THE MADNESS OF GEORGE 111 television plays THE WRITER IN DISGUISE OBJECTS OF AFFECTION (BBC) TALKING HEADS (BBC) screenplays A PRIVATE FUNCTION PRICK UP YOUR EARS THE MADNESS OF KING GEORGE autobiography THE LADY IN THE VAN WRITING HOME (rp)ALAN BENNETT _Plays Two Kafka’s Dick The Insurance Man The Old Country An Englishman Abroad A Question of Attribution Introduced by the author Mosc fi Saber and faber @® BRITISH COUNCIL RussiaJb. @ "ioe This collection first published in 2998 by Faber and Faber Limited 3 Queen Square London WcrN 3AU Photoset by Parker Typesetting Service, Leicester Printed in England by Mackays of Chatham rLc, Chatham, Kent Alll rights reserved This collection © Alan Bennett, 1998 Kafka’s Dick © Forelake Ltd, 1987 The Insurance Man © Forelake Ltd, 1987 The Old Country © Alan Bennett, 1978 An Englishman Abroad © Alan Bennett, 1989 A Question of Attribution © Alan Bennett, 1989 Author's Notes © Alan Bennett, 1987, 1989 (reprinted from Two Kafka Plays and Single Spies) Alan Bennett is hereby identified as author of this work in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 All rights whatsoever in this work are strictly reserved. Applications for any use whatsoever including performance rights must be made in advance, prior to any such proposed use to Peters, Fraser and Dunlop Ltd, sth Floor, The Chambers, | Chelsea Harbour, Lots Road, London swro oxe. For Kafka’s Dick rights of performance by amateurs are controlled by Samuel French Lid, 52 Fitzroy Street, London wr 6]R, and they, or their authorised agents, issue licences to amateurs to give performances of this play on payment of a fee. ‘No performance may be given unless a licence has first been obtained. *U1003 81794 % This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser ACIP record for this book is available from the British Library VS g G 6 2 g ISBN 0-571-19442-7 24681097531Contents Introduction x On Kafka’s Dick and The Insurance Man vii 2 On An Englishman Abroad and A Question of Attribution viii KAFKA’S DICK I Introduction 3 THE INSURANCE MAN 117 Diary: July-August r985 119 THE OLD COUNTRY 193 AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD 273 A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION 301Introduction 1 On Kafka’s Dick and The Insurance Man Ihave written two plays around if not altogether about Kafka and in the process have accumulated a good deal of material about and around the Prague insurance man. Some of this is fanciful; sketches and speculations that never had a hope of being included in either piece; some of it is the kind of stuff that’s always left over after writing a play, the speeches one has not managed to get in or the jokes that have had to be cut out and which are invariably the jokes and the speeches of which the playwright is most fond. Indeed he often thinks them the heart of the play, whereas the director (who never had to sweat over them) can see they’re diversions, distractions or ornament. Not wanted on voyage. There is a word for this kind of thing which I have just come across (and having come across it can’t think how Pve managed so long without it); it is paralipomena - the things omitted but which appertain and are put in later as afterthoughts. It describes half my life as well as the notes that follow. Besides these notes I have also included, as an introduction to The Insurance Man, a diary that I kept during the shooting of the film, which was first shown on BBCz in February 1986. Kafka’s Dick was produced at the Royal Court Theatre six months later. The play was not as well received by the critics as was the film and, though I could not imagine it better done and it played to packed houses, it did not transfer for a longer run. Shortly after it opened, I was working in Yugoslavia and drove into Italy for the day. Depressed about the reception the play had had I came by chance on the village of Aquileia, went to look at the church and found there a huge mosaic viiALAN BENNETT floor laid down in the fourth century. I say ‘by chance’ but to read Kafka is to become aware of coincidence. This is to put it at its mildest. His work prefigures the future, often in ways that are both specific and dreadful and this is part of his popular reputation, Sometimes though, his Premonitions are less haunted, lighthearted even: he hasa notion of the answering machine, for instance, and a dream of Berlin divided by a wall that seems More strange than tragic. In Kafka’s Dick, Kafka is metamorphosed from a tortoise and is also sensitive about the size of his cock. So to find inside the west door of this church at Aquileia, a mosaic of a cock fighting a tortoise seemed not quite an accident. In the play cock and tortoise are not symbols; in Aquileia, so said the guide book, they represent a battle between the forces of light and darkness. I bought a postcard of the mosaic and the postcard-seller told me of a better example in the crypt. This took some finding, as the tortoise wasn’t so much in the crypt as ina crypt beyond the crypt, and even there hidden behind the furthest pillar, just where Kafka (were he a tortoise) would have chosen to be. This seemed if not quite a nod then at least a wink and I drove on in better spirits. I would like to thank Richard Eyre, who directed the plays and the film (and who was always in good spirits) and for her unstinting help and encouragement, the best of editors, Mary-Kay Wilmers, A.B., 1987 2 On An Englishman Abroad and A Question of Attribution Some years ago a stage play of mine, The Old Country, ‘was running in the West End. The central character, Hilary, played by Alec Guinness, was a Foreign Office defector living in Russia. Hilary was generally identified as viiiINTRODUCTION Philby, though that had not been my intention, the character having much more in common with a different sort of exile, W. H. Auden. However during the run of The Old Country friends and well-wishers would come round after the performance, often with reminiscences of Philby and his predecessors, Burgess and Maclean. One of these was Coral Browne who told me of her visit to Russia with the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre in 1958 and the particular incidents that make up Ax Englishman Abroad. The picture of the elegant actress and the seedy exile sitting in a dingy Moscow flat through a long afternoon listening again and again to Jack Buchanan singing ‘Who stole my heart away?’ seemed to me funny and sad but it was a few years before I got round to writing it up. It was only when I sent Coral Browne the first draft of the television film that I found she had kept not merely Burgess’s letters, thanking her for running his errands, but also her original notes of his measurements and even his cheque (uncashed and for £6) to treat her and one of her fellow actors to lunch at the Caprice. The original script of the television film was quite close to the version now presented on the stage. It had no exterior shots because I knew no Bc budget would run to filming in Moscow or some foreign substitute. I introduced the exteriors only when a suitable (and a suitably economic) substitute for Moscow was found in Dundee. Ihave put some of my own sentiments into Burgess’s mouth. ‘I can say I love London. I can say I love England. T can’t say I love my country, because I don’t know what that means’, is a fair statement of my own, and I imagine many people’s position. The Falklands War helped me to understand how a fastidious stepping-aside from patriotism could be an element in characters as different as Blunt and Burgess. Certainly in the spy fever that followed the unmasking of Professor Blunt I felt more sympathy with the hunted than the hunters. ixALAN BENNETT I never met Blunt, but though he seems to have been an altogether less likeable character than Burgess he is a more familiar type, at any rate in academic circles. Championed by his pupils, he was less favourably regarded by some of his colleagues, who found him arrogant and opinionated, There are plenty of dons like this, in whom shyness, self- assurance and deep conviction combine to give an uncongenial impression. Housman and Wittgenstein are perhaps the most distinguished examples. In death such characters are invariably filed under the obituarist’s catch- all ‘Did not suffer fools gladly’. In the first play it is suggested that Burgess was a spy because he wanted a place where he was alone, and that having a secret supplies this. I believe this to be psychologically true, but there is a sense too that an ironic attitude towards one’s country and a scepticism about one’s heritage is a part of that heritage. And so, by extension, is the decision to betray it. It is irony activated. I find it hard to drum up any patriotic indignation over either Burgess or Blunt, or even Philby. No one has ever shown that Burgess did much harm, except to make fools of people in high places. Because he made jokes, scenes and, most of all, passes, the gencral consensus is that he was rather silly, Blunt was not silly and there have been attempts to show that his activities had more far-reaching consequences, but again he seems to be condemned as much out of pique and because he fooled the Establishment as for anything that he did. It is Philby who is always thought to be the most congenial figure. Clubbable, able to hold his liquor, a good man ina tight corner, he commends himself to his fellow journalists, who have given him a good press. But of all the Cambridge spies he is the only one of whom it can be proved without doubt that he handed over agents to torture and death. It suits governments to make treachery the crime of crimes, but the world is smaller than it was and to conceal aeINTRODUCTION information can be as culpable as to betray it. As I write evidence is emerging of a nuclear accident at Windscale in 1957, the full extent of which was hidden from the public. Were the politicians and civil servants responsible for this less culpable than our Cambridge villains? Because for the spies it can at least be said that they were risking their own skins whereas the politicians were risking someone else’s. Of course Blunt and Burgess and co. had the advantage of us in that they still had illusions. They had somewhere to turn. The trouble with treachery nowadays is that if one does want to betray one’s country there is no one satisfactory to betray it to. If there were, more people would be doing it. A.B., 1989 xiKAFKA’S DICKALAN BENNETT Duff | can’t give you an absolute assurance on that. I hope not. I don’t know. Olga The cars are here. Duff Good, good. This time on Tuesday we shall be in ‘Wiltshire. Duff shepherds Bron and Veronica out. Olga waits. A car horn sounds, two short notes. Eric I don’t want the books. I don’t want the bloody books. Hilary takes no notice. The car horn sounds again. Hilary Poop-poop. Poop-poop. The chair is still rocking as Hilary leaves, followed by Olga. Eric watches them from the verandah, the books still in his arms. Curtain a7:AN ENGLISHMAN ABROADCharacters Burgess Coral Browne Tolya Tailor Shop AssistantAn Englishman Abroad was first performed at the Royal National Theatre, London, on x December 1988 as part of a double bill entitled Single Spies. The cast was as follows: Coral Browne, Prunella Scales Guy Burgess, Simon Callow Tolya, Paul Brightwell Tailor, Alan Bennett Shop Assistant, Edward Halsted Director, Alan Bennett Designer, Bruno Santini Lighting, Paul PyantA projection screen hides the set. Stage right of the screen is a bentwood chair. The screen glows red and projected on it is the head of Stalin as we hear a record of Jack Buchanan singing ‘Who stole my heart away?’. The song fades.as Coral Browne enters stage right. She is a striking woman, tall and elegant, and carries a luxurious fur coat. Coral Stalin died in 1953.1 was in Affairs of State at the time, a light comedy that had a decent run at the Cambridge. Stalin had had a decent run too, though I’d never been a fan of the old boy, even during the war when he was all the rage. It wasn’t so much the cult of personality that put me off (being in the theatre I’m no stranger to that); it was the moustache. One smiles, but more judgements than people care to admit are grounded in such trivialities, and when you’re just a fool of an actress like me you don’t mind coming out with it. After Uncle Joe’s death they played with the understudies for a bit, then brought in a cast of unknowns in something called The Thaw. Soviet experts in the West (what nowadays would be called ‘experienced Kremlin-watchers’) thought that this show was going to run and run, predicting - poor loves - that the Iron Curtain was about to go up and stay up. Ah well. Incidentally, don’t let any of this deceive you into thinking I took any sort of interest in Soviet affairs. Actresses are excused newspapers much as delicate boys used to be excused games; the only paper I see regularly is The Stage, and its coverage of the comings and goings in the Politburo is, to say the least, cursory. 277ALAN BENNETT Still, there were repercussions, even on me. When peace breaks out suddenly, as it did then, culture is first on the menu, actors and musicians sent in ahead of the statesmen like the infantry before the tanks. We had the Red Army Choir; they got the Stratford Memorial Theatre in Hamlet. Michael Redgrave was the eponymous prince, and notwithstanding I was scarcely five minutes older than he was, I played his mother. Guy Burgess enters stage left. He is in his early fifties, a man who has once been handsome but is now running to seed. Burgess Hearing that Stalin had died one cheered up no end. It wasn’t just that I was glad to see the back of the old bugger, though I was, but for the first time since ’'d come to Moscow in 1951 I found I’d something to do. Death always means work for somebody, and one was suddenly very busy reading the papers, monitoring news broadcasts, collating and analysing Western reactions to the Marshal’s somewhat overdue departure. However, in no time at all, they had him tucked in beside Lenin on Red Square, and life returned to what I had come to regard as normal — doing The Times crossword, the Statesman competition, reading Trollope and Jane Austen. A gentleman of leisure. Of course the most accomplished exiles are, and always have been, the Russians. They’re tutors in it practically. So, in a sense we had come to the right place. What made it harder to bear was that no one in what one couldn’t help thinking of as the outside world actually knew we were here. For the first few years of our sojourn we were kept very much under wraps — no letters, no phone calls, nothing. It made Greta Garbo look gregarious. I say ‘we’, meaning my colleague Maclean, with some diffidence. It’s dispiriting to find oneself yoked permanently to someone who was never meant to be more than a travelling companion (besides 278 S22AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD having been a fellow travelling companion, of course). Now it was ‘we’, handcuffed together in the same personal pronoun. Quarantine or honeymoon, our period of probation ended when we were revealed to the world’s press in Moscow in 1956. After that, though we never exactly hit the cocktail party circuit and still had to mind our ps and qs, there was less — shall we say — skulking. (Burgess exits left.) Coral Dissolve to my dressing-room in the Moscow Art Theatre one night after the performance. ] am sitting there, applying the paint-stripper, when I hear a commotion next door. Suddenly Hamlet bursts in. Someone is being sick in his dressing room, would I assist? Now vomiting is not childbirth. If one is having a baby a helping hand is not unwelcome. If one is having a puke, one is best left alone to get on with it. Remembering always that nausea requires patience. One of the few Jessons I have learned in life is that when one is sick it is always in threes. Judging by the state of the carpet this was 4 lesson this particular gentleman had yet to learn. When his face came out of the basin I found I knew it, though not by name. The moment for introductions was long since past and Redgrave did not make them. I cleaned the man up, noting that he was English, he was upper class, and he was drunk. It was only later that night when a note was slipped under my door at the hotel that I found out he was also Guy Burgess. (Coral has put on her fur coat and she takes a note from the pocket.) “Bring a tape measure.’ Bring a tape measure? The motif of Stalin bas faded from the screen and as we hear Burgess singing the screen rises to reveal his very untidy flat. There is an easy chair, a sofa and a small table, several bookshelves filled to overflowing with (English) books and papers and at the rear of the flat a 279ALAN BENNETT kitchenette. Through an alcove is a double bed, unmade and the sheets unwashed and stage left is a pianola. Burgess (singing off) Oh God our help in ages past Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast And our eternal home. Burgess wanders in, shaving. Before the hills in order stood Or earth received her frame The doorbell rings. From everlasting Thou art God, It’s open. Through endless years the same. Burgess hurriedly clears some so clothes from a chair and as an afterthought flings the heaped contents of an ashtray under the sofa, as Coral enters through the hallway stage right. Burgess (to Coral) Hello. Coral (puffed) The stairs! Burgess I know. I’m sorry. Recover. What a splendid coat. Let me take it. (He buries his face in the grand fur coat before dropping it, pretty unceremoniously, on the sofa.) Mmm. Have a drink. Coral Please. Burgess I’ve just been tidying up. (He sweeps some stuff to the floor and removes his soap and towel.) Coral One moment. My soap. This is my soap. Burgess It is. It is. ‘Palmolive — for that schoolgirl complexion.” 280 Z|AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD Coral So it was you who took my cigarettes? Burgess One wasn’t well. (He hands her a glass, which she surreptitiously cleans on her skirt. He pours her a drink.) Coral My Scotch? Burgess smiles. Burgess One should have asked. Coral You even took my face powder. Burgess I know. One is such a coward. Still. You came. I thought you’d chuck. (He raises his glass in a toast.) Coral I nearly did. I seem to have trekked halfway across Moscow. Is there something in the Communist Manifesto against taxis? One never sees any. And that woman on the door downstairs! Burgess | know. How did you get past her? Coral I gave her my lipstick. Burgess | can’t think what she’ll do with it. 'm always struck by her pronounced resemblance to the late Ernest Bevin. They could be sisters. Coral Did you enjoy the play? Burgess What play? Coral Our play. Hamlet. Burgess Loved it. Loved it. I liked the look of Laertes. He goes rather well into tights. Coral That’s what he thinks. Burgess He looked as if he’d put a couple of King Edwards down there. That apart, of course, such a pleasure to hear the language so beautifully spoken. 281ALAN BENNETT Coral I was told you were asleep. Burgess No. Though one did have a tiny zizz. After all, one has seen it before. Are there still a couple of music-hall comedians on the wireless called Nat Mills and Bobby? Coral I don’t know them. Burgess Their catchphrase was, ‘Well, why don’t you get on with it?’ I always feel they would have come in handy in Hamlet. Still. The comrades lapped it up. But they do, of course, culture. How do you like Moscow? Coral Loathe it, darling. I cannot understand what those Three Sisters were on about. It gives the play a very sinister slant. She walks about the flat. Burgess It’s hardly luxury’s lap, I’m afraid. A pigsty, in fact. I used to live in Jermyn Street. Tragic, you might think, but not really. That was a pigsty, too. By their standards it’s quite commodious. Palatial even. One is very lucky. Coral What is that smell? Burgess Me probably. Coral No. Besides that. If it’s our lunch, it’s burning. Burgess Oh. Now. It might be. (He gets up unhurriedly and goes into the kitchenette.) Yes, it is. It was stew. (He peers into the pan.) One could salvage some of it? (He shows it to Coral.) Coral Hardly. Burgess Perhaps not. (He returns to the kitchen with it.) However. All is not lost. I managed to scrounge two tomatoes this morning, and . . , quite a talking point. ..a grapefruit. Shall we perch? I generally do. 282AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD He draws Coral’s chair to the table and himself sits on the arm of the easy chair. Coral (faintly) Treats. He puts a tomato on her plate and eats his like an apple. Burgess Garlic? Coral No, thank you. Burgess I love it. (He eats several cloves.) Yam yum. Now. Tell me all the gossip. Do you see Harold Nicolson? Coral I have seen him. J don’t know him. Burgess Oh, don’t you? Nice man. Nice man. What about Cyril Connolly? Coral I haven't run into him either. Burgess Really? That must be quite difficult. He’s everywhere. You know him, of course? Coral As a matter of fact, no. Burgess Oh. One somehow remembers everyone knowing everyone else. Everyone I knew knew everyone else. Auden ~ do you know him? Pope Hennessy? Coral (manfully) The theatre’s in a terrible state. Burgess Is it? Coral Three plays closed on Shaftesbury Avenue in one week. Burgess That’s tragic. Some ballet on ice is coming here. The comrades are all agog. I’m rather old-fashioned about ice. | used to direct at Cambridge, you know. That’s how I know your star, Mr Redgrave. I directed him in Captain Brassbound’s Conversion. It was an average production, but notable for a memorable performance by Arthur 283ALAN BENNETT Marshall as Lady Cicely Waynflete. Happy days. One thinks back and wonders, did one miss one’s way. What would have happened had one gone into the theatre? Nothing, I suppose. Coral Who knows, you might just have been Kenneth Tynan’s cup of tea. Burgess Oh, do you think so? Do you know him? Coral Slightly. Burgess He happened after we came away. You’re not eating your tomato. Coral I’m not hungry. Burgess I am. (He takes it.) This garlic! Coral Do you see many people here? Burgess Oh yes. Heaps of chums. You don’t know what you're missing with this tomato. Coral There’s your other half, I suppose. Burgess What? Oh yes. He’s taken up the balalaika. We play duets. Coral Maclean? Burgess No. Oh no. Not Maclean. (He bursts out laughing.) Taking up the balalaika! Maclean’s not my friend. Oh, ducky. Oh no, not Maclean. He’s so unfunny, no jokes, no jokes at all. Positively the last person one would have chosen if one had had the choice. And here we are on this terrible tandem together - Debenham and Freebody, Crosse and Blackwell, Auden and Isherwood, Burgess and Maclean. Do you know Auden? Coral You asked me. No. Burgess (going over to the kitchenette) Sweet man. Don’t 284AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD look. The seeds get inside my plate. (He swills his teeth.) People ask me if I have any regrets. The one regret I have is that before ] came away I didn’t get kitted out with a good set of National Health gnashers. Admirable as most things are in the Soviet Socialist Republic, the making of dentures is still in its infancy. (Pause.) Actually, there’s no one in Moscow at all. It’s like staying up in Cambridge for the Long Vac. One makes do with whoever’s around. Coral Me. Burgess No, no. And in any case I asked you here for a reason. Did you bring a tape measure? Coral I did. (She produces it.) Burgess Good. (Burgess puts on his jacket. His suit is well cut but shabby, the knee of the trousers darned and darned again.) | want you to measure me for some suits. From my tailor. I only have one suit. It’s the one I came away in and I’ve fallen down a lot since then. Coral But I shan’t know where to start. What measurements will he want? Burgess Measure it all. He’ll work it out. He’s a nice man. He gets her pencil and paper. She draws the figure of a man on the paper. Coral Won’t your people here get you a suit? Burgess What people? Coral The authorities. Burgess Oh yes, but have you seen them? Clothes have never been the comrades’ strong point. Besides, I don’t want to look like everybody else, do I? (He bends his arm for her to measure.) I seem to remember doing this. Coral Your arms can’t have altered. 285ALAN BENNETT Burgess I never cared tuppence for clothes before . . . Measure me round here . . . I was kitted out in the traditional garb of my class. Black coat, striped trousers. Pinstripe suit and tweeds for weekends. Shit order, of course. Always in shit order. But charm, I always had charm. Coral (measuring away) You still have charm. She said through clenched teeth. Burgess But not here. Not for them. For charm one needs words. I have no words. And, short of my clothes, no” class. Iam ‘The Englishman’. ‘Would you like to go to bed with the Englishman?’ I say. Not particularly. One got so spoiled during the war. The joys of the black-out. London awash with rude soldiery. (He says a Russian phrase.) Skolko zeem, skolko let. Coral What does that mean? Burgess Skolko zeem, skolko let? It means the same as our ‘On sont les neiges d’antan?’ Nostalgia, you see, knows no frontiers. Coral Do you speak Russian? Burgess I manage. Maclean’s learned it, naturally. Swot. I haven't. I ought to, simply for the sex. Boys are quite thin on the ground here. I can’t speak their language and they can’t speak mine, so when one does manage to get one it soon palls. Sex needs language. Coral is still busy measuring. Coral At least you've found a friend. Burgess Tolya? Yes. Except I’m not sure whether I’ve found him or been allotted him. I know what I’ve done to be given him. But what has he done to be given me? Am] a reward or a punishment? He plays the balalaika. I play 286AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD the pianola. It’s fun. He’s an electrician with the ballet. Of course he may be a policeman. If he is a policeman he’s a jolly good actor. Forster lived with a policeman, didn’t he? You know him? Coral shakes her head. Nice man. Getting on now, I suppose. Coral I feel I’m somewhat of a disappointment in the friends department. I gather Paul Robeson is coming here. Now I know him. Burgess Do you? He’s a big favourite with the comrades. What with being black, and red. I remember when I was posted to the Washington Embassy the Secretary of State, dear old Hector McNeill, had me in his room and gave me a lecture about what I should and shouldn’t do when I got there: I mustn’t be too openly left-wing, mustn’t get involved in the colour question, and above all I must avoid homosexual incidents. I said, ‘To sum up, Hector, what you're saying is, “Don’t make a pass at Paul Robeson”. Coral I wouldn’t either. Nobody will believe me when I go home. ‘What did you do in Moscow, darling?’ ‘Nothing much, I measured Guy Burgess’s inside leg.’ Burgess I shouldn’t think one’s inside leg alters, do you? It’s one of the immutables. ‘The knee is such a distance from the main body, whereas the groin, as your honour knows, is upon the very curtain of the place.’ Coral Come again. Burgess Tristram Shandy. Lovely book. Of course, you wouldn’t do that. Coral Do what? 287ALAN BENNETT Burgess Go round telling everybody. My people here wouldn’t like that. Coral (looking up from her knees) No? Burgess No. A hat would be nice. I’ve written down the . name of my hatters. And my bootmaker. Coral It’s a trousseau. Burgess Yes. For a shotgun marriage. Coral How do you know he won’t say no, your tailor? Burgess Why should he say no? It would be vulgar to say no. Coral Well, Pll see what I can do. She prepares to go. Burgess doesn’t make any move. Burgess Don’t go yet. I don’t want you to go yet. You mustn’t go yet. Coral Can’t we go somewhere? You could show me the sights. Burgess In due course. But we can’t go yet. I have to wait for a telephone call. When the telephone call comes I’m permitted to leave. Coral Who from? Burgess Oh... you know. . . my people. It’s generally around four. Coral That’s another two hours. Burgess Yes. ‘What then is to be done?’ as Vladimir Ilyitch almost said. I know. I can play you my record. He puts a record. on the gramophone. It is Jack Buchanan singing ‘Who stole my heart away?’. They listen to this in its entirety. 288AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD Good, isn’t it? It’s Jack Buchanan. Coral. Yes. Burgess Is he still going? Coral Yes. Burgess Did you ever come across him? Coral Yes. I did actually. We nearly got married. Burgess And? Coral He jilted me. Burgess Oh. Small world. Still. It’s a good record. (He puts it on again.) Coral And so we sat there in that dreary flat all through that long afternoon waiting for the telephone to ring. From time to time he played his record and I had to listen to my ex-beau. I was puzzled as to how he had managed to get all his books there. Burgess Somcone sent them. A well-wisher. The desk belonged to Stendhal. Coral Did you have that in London? Burgess Yes. Coral Couldn’t the same person who sent you your books get you the suits? Burgess No. Coral No? Burgess No. Coral When I came into the flats I noticed a boy sitting on the stairs playing chess. Burgess Police. When I first came I used to be shadowed 289ALAN BENNETT by rather grand policemen. That was when I was a celebrity, Nowadays they just send the trainees. I wish I could lead them a dance. But | can’t think of a dance to lead them. Mind you, they’re more conscientious than their English . counterparts. All that last week before we left we were tailed. Maclean lived in Sussex so on the Friday evening we went to Waterloo, dutifully followed by these two men in raincoats. They saw us as far as the barrier and then went home. On the very civilized principle, I suppose, that nothing happens at the weekend, It was the only reason we got away. (Pause.) Waterloo the same, is it? Coral Yes. (Pause.) What do you miss most? Burgess Apart from the Reform Club, the streets of London, and occasionally the English countryside, the only thing I truly miss is gossip. The comrades, though splendid in every other respect, don’t gossip in quite the same way we do or about quite the same subjects. Coral Pardon me for saying so, dear, but the comrades seem to mea sad disappointment in every department. There’s no gossip, their clothes are terrible and they can’t make false teeth. What else is there? Burgess (gently) The system. Only, being English, you wouldn't be interested in that. (Pause.) My trouble is, I lack what the English call character. By which they mean the power to refrain. Appetite. The English never like that, do they? Unconcealed appetite, For success. Women. Money. Justice. Appetite makes them uncomfortable. What do people say about me in England? Coral They don’t much any more. She gets up and starts tidying the room. Folding clothes, washing dishes. Burgess watches. 290AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD I thought of you as a bit like Oscar Wilde. Burgess laughs. Burgess No, no. Though he was a performer. And I was a performer. Both vain. But I never pretended. If I wore a mask it was to be exactly what I seemed. And I made no bones about politics. My analyses of situations, the précis I had to submit at the Foreign Office, were always Marxist. Openly so. Impeccably so. Nobody minded. ‘It’s only Guy.’ ‘Dear old Guy.’ Quite safe, If you don’t wish to conform in one thing, you should conform in all the others. And in all the important things I did conform. ‘How can he be a spy? He goes to my tailor” The average Englishman, you see, is not interested in ideas. You can say what you like about political theory and no one will listen. You could shove a slice of the Communist Manifesto in the Queen’s Speech and no one would turn a hair. Least of all, I suspect, HMQ. Am I boring you? Coral It doesn’t matter. (She investigates the bookshelves. Takes a book out. Puts it back.) Burgess |’ll think of a hundred and one things to ask you when you've gone. How is Cyril Connolly? Coral You've asked me that. I don’t know. Burgess You won’t have come across Anthony Blunt then? Coral No. Isn’t he quite grand? Burgess Very grand. That’s art. Art is grand. Art and opera. It’s the way to get on. Coral Is he nice? Burgess Not particularly. Though nice is what you generally have to be, isn’t it? ‘Is he nice?” So little, England. Little music. Little art. Timid, tasteful, nice. But one loves it. Loves it. You see, I can say I love London. I can say I 291ALAN BENNETT love England. But I can’t say I love my country. I don’t know what that means. Do you watch cricket? Coral No. Anyway, it’s changed. Burgess Cricket? Coral London. Burgess Why? I don’t want it to change. Why does anybody want to change it? They’ve no business changing it. The fools. You should stop them changing it. Band together. Coral Listen, darling. I’m only an actress. Not a bright lady, by your standards. I’ve never taken much interest in politics. If this is communism I don’t like it because it’s dull. And the poor dears look so tired. But then Australia is dull and that’s not communism. And look at Leeds. Only it occurs to me that we have sat here all afternoon pretending that spying, which is what you did, darling, Was just a minor social misdemeanour, no worse — and I’m sure in certain people’s minds much better — than being caught in a public lavatory the way gentlemen in my profession constantly are, and that it’s just something one shouldn’t mention. Out of politeness. So that we won’t be embarrassed, That's very English. We will pretend it hasn’t happened because we are both civilized people. Well, I'm not English. And I’m not civilized. ’m Australian. I can’t muster much morality, and outside Shakespeare the word treason to me means nothing. Only, you pissed in our soup and we drank it. Very good Doesn’t affect me, darling. And I will order your suit and your hat. And keep it under mine. Mum. Not a word. But for one reason and one reason only: because I’m sorry for you. Now in your book. . . in your real book... that probably adds my name to the list of all the other fools you've conned. But you’re not conning me, darling. Pipe isn’t fooling pussy. I know. 292AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD The telephone rings. Burgess Pity. I was enjoying that. (He picks up the phone.) You spoiled the lady’s big speech. Da. Da. Spassibo. (He puts the phone down.) Finished? Coral I just want to be told why. Burgess It seemed the right thing to do at the time. And solitude, I suppose. Coral Solitude? Burgess If you have a secret you’re alone. Coral But you told people. You told several people. Burgess No point in having a secret if you make a secret of it. Actually the other thing you might get me is an Etonian tie. This one’s on its last legs. They have got up ready to go when Tolya, a young Russian, comes in. Ah, here’s Tolya. He kisses him. Tolya. This is Miss Browne. She is an actress. From England. Tolya (pronouncing it very carefully) How do you do? How are you? Burgess Very good. If you give him an English cigarette he'll be your friend for life. Coral does so. Tolya takes a cigarette but is then fascinated by the packet and takes that also. He examines it carefully then hands it back. Coral No, please. Feel free. Coral lights bis cigarette with her lighter. 293ALAN BENNETT Tolya Thank you. But now her lighter has caught his eye and he takes that too, flicking it on and off, fascinated. Tolya Chudyessna! Burgess Oh dear, Sorty. Reluctantly Tolya offers the lighter back. Coral (resigned) No, please. Burgess (taking the lighter and handing it back to Coral) No, you mustn't. He'll take anything. He’s a real Queen Mary. But you. . . wouldn’t be able to order him a suit, would you? Off the peg. He’d look so nice. Coral (desperately) Anything. Anything. Tolya (in Russian) Ya hotyel bwi eegrat dlya nyeyo, Burgess Da? Samnoy? Tolya Konyeshna. Burgess Tolya wants us to play you a tune, Let him. He’d be so pleased. Just five minutes. They embark on the duet ‘Take a pair of sparkling eyes’ from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Gondoliers, Burgess shouts above the music. What do you think? Reward or punishment? The music continues as the lights fade, hiding the room. Coral When we left the flat he took me to a church not far from where he lived. I’ve since been told that it was kept open just to indicate that there still were such places. The singing was very good. Apparently it was where the opera singers went to warm up for the evening’s performance. Asa rule I don’t have much time for men’s tears. It’s like 294AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD blowing smoke rings, crying is a facility some men have. And it wasn’t as if there was anything particularly English about the service. It wasn’t like church or school, and yet when I looked at him the tears were rolling down his cheeks. He left me outside my hotel. Coral goes stage right, leaving Burgess in the spot, stage left. Burgess Something else you could do for me when you get back. Ring the old mum. Tell her I’m all right. Looking after myself. She’s been here once. Loved it. Too frail now. J would come back to see her but apparently it’s not on. Still got to stand in the corner, I suppose. ‘Let him never come back to us. There would be doubt, hesitation and pain. Forced praise on our part, the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again.’ Good old Browning. Goodbye. Dosvidanya. The light fades on Burgess as Coral comes on, right, ina different coat and hat. A Tailor enters, left, wearing a tape measure and carrying a swatch of samples. Coral I'd like to order some suits. Tailor! Cectainlysma darn. Coral You've made suits for the gentleman before, but he now lives abroad. Tailor I see. Coral hands him her bit of paper. Coral I took his measurements. I’m not sure they’re the right ones. The Tailor looks at the paper. 295,ALAN BENNETT Tailor Oh yes. These are more than adequate. Could one know the gentleman’s name? Coral Yes. Mr Burgess. Tailor We have two Mr Burgesses. I take this to be Mr Burgess G. How is Mr Burgess? Fatter, I see. One of our more colourful customers. Too little colour in our drab lives these days. Knowing Mr Guy he’ll want a pinstripe. But a durable fabric. His suits were meant to take a good dea! of punishment. I hope they have stood him in good stead. Coral Yes. They have indeed. Tailor I’m glad to hear it. Always getting into scrapes, Mr Guy. And your name is. . .? Coral Browne. Tailor There is no need for discretion here, madam. Coral Truly. Tailor My apologies. (He looks at her in recognition.) Of course. And this is the address. I see. We put a little of ourselves into our suits. That is our loyalty. Coral And mum’s the word. Tailor Oh, madam. Mum is always the word here. Moscow or Maidenhead, mum is always the word. The Tailor exits left leaving Coral in the spot right. Coral And so it was with all the shops I went into, scarcely an eyebrow raised. When the parcels arrived he wrote to me, the letter dated rx April 1958, Easter Sunday, to which he adds, ‘a very suitable day to be writing to you, since I also was born on it, to the later horror of the Establishment of the country concerned’, 296AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD Burgess, left, now takes over the letter. Burgess I really find it hard to know how to thank you properly. Everything fits. No need for any alterations at all. Thank you. Thank you. In spite of your suggestion — invitation, to visit your friend Paul Robeson, I find myself too shy to call on him. Not so much shy as frightened. The agonies | remember on first meeting with people I really admire, E. M. Forster (and Picasso and Winston Churchill). H. G. Wells was quite different, but one could get drunk with him and listen to stories of his sex life. Fascinating. How frightened one would be of Charlie Chaplin. One more thing. What I really need, the only thing more, is pyjamas. Russian ones can’t be slept in, are not in fact made for the purpose. What I would like if you can find it is four pairs of white or off-white pyjamas . . . A Shop Assistant brings on a chair, right. Assistant If you could take a seat, madam, I'll just check. Coral ‘. . . Four pairs. Quite plain and only those two colours. Then at last my outfit will be complete and I shall look like a real agent again.’ (She looks twice.) ‘Then I shall look like a real gent again.’ The Shop Assistant returns. Assistant I’m afraid, madam, that the gentleman in question no longer has an account with us. His account was closed. Coral J know. He wishes to open it again. Assistant I’m afraid that’s not possible. Coral Why? Assistant Well. . . we supply pyjamas to the Royal Family. 297ALAN BENNETT Coral So? Assistant The gentleman is a traitor, madam. Coral So? Must traitors sleep in the buff? Assistant I’m sorry. We have to draw the line somewhere. Coral So why here? Say someone commits adultery in your precious nightwear. I imagine it has occurred. What happens when he comes in to order his next pair of jim- jams. Is it sorry, no can do? Assistant I’m very sorry. Coral (her Australian accent gets now more pronounced as she gets crosser) You keep saying you're sorry, dear. You were quite happy to satisfy this client when he was one of the most notorious buggers in London and a drunkard into the bargain. Only then he was in the Foreign Office. ‘Red piping on the sleeve, Mr Burgess — but of course.’ ‘A discreet monogram on the pocket, Mr Burgess?’ Certainly. And perhaps if you’d be gracious enough to lower your trousers, Mr Burgess, we could be privileged enough to thrust our tongue between the checks of your arse. But not any more. Oh no. Because the gentleman in question has shown himself to have some principles, principles which aren’t yours and, as a matter of interest, aren’t mine, But that’s it, as far as you're concerned. No more jamas for him. | tell you, it’s pricks like you that make me understand why he went. Thank Christ I’m not English. Assistant As a matter of fact, madam, our firm isn’t English either. Coral Oh? What is it? Assistant Hungarian. (He exits right.) Coral Oh, I said, and thinking of the tanks going into 298AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD Budapest a year or two before, wished T hadn’t made such a fuss. So 1 went down the street to Simpsons and got him some pyjamas there. Guy wrote to thank me and sent a cheque for £6 to treat myself to supper at the Caprice. Which one could, of course, in those days. In those days. Anyway, that was the last I heard of him. He never did come back, of course, dying in 1963. Heart attack. This comedy I was in at the Cambridge, A/fairs of State -I played the wife of an elderly statesman. “Your friends were great men in their time,’ J had to say, ‘only those who've managed to stay alive can now hardly manage to stay awake.’ And that, of course, would have been the solution for Burgess, to live on to a great age. Had he been living now he would have been welcomed back with open arms, just as Mosley was a few years back. He could have \, written his memoirs, gone on all the chat shows, done Desert Island Discs . . . played his Jack Buchanan record again. In England, you see, age wipes the slate clean. (She gets up.) If you live to be ninety in England and can still eat a boiled egg they think you deserve the Nobel Prize. Now smartly suited, wearing an overcoat and Homburg hat and carrying an umbrella Burgess stands in the spot stage left, the picture of an upper-class Englishman. Accompanied as if on the pianola he starts to sing ‘For he is an Englishman’ from Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore. Burgess For he might have been a Roosian, A French or Turk or Proosian, Or perhaps I-tal-ian. For in spite of all temptations To belong to other nations, He remains an Englishman, He remains an Englishman. 299ALAN BENNETT As Burgess sings he is drowned out by the full chorus and orchestra in a rousing climax, but before the music stops the light has faded on Burgess and the screen drops in, bright and blank and Coral stands in front of it as though after a film screening. Coral At supper one night, after a showing of the film of this story in 1983, I met Lord Harlech, who as David Omsby-Gore had been Minister of State at the Foreign Office at the time Burgess was wanting to come back and see his mother, The Foreign Office and the security services were in a blue funk apparently. All the threats of prosccution that were conveyed to Burgess were pure bluff. Harlech said there was nothing it would have been safe to charge him with. Egg on too many faces, I suppose. “And what about the others?’ I said. ‘What others?’ he said. I said I'd heard there were others. Still. But he just smiled. 300A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION An inquiry in which the circumstances are imaginary but the pictures are realA note on the paintings A Question of Attribution is concerned with two paintings, Titian’s Allegory of, Prudence in the National Gallery and the Triple Portrait, formerly attributed to ‘Titian, which is in the collection of um The Queen. The play owes a great deal to two articles in which these paintings are discussed, “Titian’s Allegory of Prudence’ by Erwin Panofsky (in Meaning in the Visual Arts, Peregrine, 1974) and ‘Five Portraits’ by St John Gore (Burlington Magazine, vol. 100, 1958). One of the points made by Blunt in the play is that there is a strong resemblance between the ‘third man’ in the Triple Portrait and Titian’s son, Orazio Vecelli as he appears in the Allegory of Prudence. Should anyone be interested enough to compare the actual paintings they would be in some difficulty as at the moment the Triple Portrait (which has recently been re-titled Titian and Friends) cannot be seen. It used to hang at Hampton Court but since the 1986 fire it has not been on public view. Indeed, I have not seen it myself, knowing it only from the photographs which illustrate Mr St John Gore’s article. There is a certain appropriateness about this, though, as one of the criticisms made of Anthony Blunt as an att historian was that he preferred to work from photographs rather than the real thing. AB 303FIGURE 1 The Triple Portrait before cleaning: Titian and @ Venetian Senator (Witt Library, Courtauld Institute of Art). 304FIGURE 2 The Triple Portrait after cleaning: Titian and Friends (Royal Collection Enterprises Ltd). 325FIGURE 3 Allegory of Prudence (copyright the National Gallery), 306FicuRE 4 Details from the Allegory of Prudence and Triple Portrait. 397Characters Blunt Chubb Phillips HMQ Colin Restorer A Question of Attribution was first performed at the Royal National Theatre, London, on 1 December 1988 as part of a double bill entitled Single Spies. The cast was as follows: Blunt, Alan Bennett Restorer, David Terence Chubb, Simon Callow Phillips, Crispin Redman Colin, Brett Fancy HMQ, Prunella Scales Director, Simon Callow Designer, Bruno Santini Lighting, Paul Pyant Music, Dominic Muldowney 308Anthony Blunt’s room at the Courtauld Institute where he is the Director. The time is the late 1960s. There is a large eighteenth-century double door and a fine ormolu mounted table serving as a desk but in all other respects the room is a functioning office, the bookshelves crowded with reference books and with piles of octavo volumes on the floor. Above the desk and upstage of it is a projection screen with a slide projector on a nearby side-table. Blunt stands left of the screen and the Restorer, a humbler figure in a dustcoat, to the right. Their positions resemble those of saints or patrons on either side of an altarpiece and some effort should be made in the production to create stage pictures which echo in this way the composition and lighting of old masters. Blunt Next. On the screen a slide of the Triple Portrait before cleaning (Figure 1). Restorer More of the same, I’m afraid. It’s an ex-Titian. Now thought to be by several hands. Blunt Called? The Restorer consults a catalogue or printed sheet. Restorer Titian and a Venetian Senator. Blunt And this is Titian on the left. He’s not by Titian, certainly. Restorer No. He’s a copy of the Berlin self-portrait. 509ALAN BENNETT Blunt I don’t know about the other gentleman. Restorer He’s been identified as the Chancellor of Venice, Andrea Franceschi. Pause. Blunt I should warn you. I don’t have an eye. K. Clark was saying the other day (I don’t chink the remark was directed at me) that people who look at Old Masters fall into three groups: those who see what it is without being told; those who see it when you tell them; and those who can’t see it whatever you do. I just about make the second category. It means I can’t date pictures. Made a terrible hash of the early Poussins. Couldn't tell which came first. For an art historian it’s rather humiliating. Like being a wine taster and having no sense of smell. (Pause.) People find me cold. I don’t gush, I suppose. Restorer Not much to gush about, this lot. Mind you, wait till you see Holyrood. Blunt I’m not saying painting doesn’t affect me. Ravished sometimes. Well, what do we do? Give it a scrub? Restorer Couldn’t do any harm. Blunt On. On. A slide of a painting of St Lawrence being roasted over a grid comes up on the screen. What frightful thing is happening here? Restorer The Martyrdom of St Lawrence. Blunt groans. ‘ Blunt Art! Blunt steps from the office set to a podium or lectern, stage left, and we should have a sense that he is in the 310A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION middle of a lecture. The lecture is illustrated by slides projected on the screen; these slides include Giovanni Bellini’s Agony in the Garden, an Annunciation and other appropriate images, details and martyrdoms. Were we not inured to its imagery, however, it would seem a curious world, this world of Renaissance art; a place of incongruous punishments, where heads come on plates and skulls sport cleavers, and an angel, tremulous as a butterfly, waits patiently for the attention of a young girl who is pretending to read. Doomed to various slow and ingenious extinctions the saints brandish the emblems of their suffering, the cross, the gridiron and the wheel, and submit to their fate readily and without fuss, howling agonies gone through without a murmur, the only palliative a vision of God and the assurance of Heaven. Remote though all this is from our sensibility, there is a sense in which one might feel that it is all very British. For flayed, dismembered, spitted, roasted, these martyrs seldom lose a drop of their sang-froid, so cool about their bizarre torments, the real emblems of their martyrdom a silk dressing-gown and a long cigarette- holder; all of them doing their far, far better thing in a dignified silence. About suffering they were always wrong, the Old Masters. (Slide.) In Bellini’s Agony in the Garden, for instance, the apostles, oblivious to all considerations but those of perspective, are fast asleep on ground as brown and bare as an end-of-the-season goalmouth, this sleep signifying indifference. Above them ona rocky promontory of convenient geology, Jesus kneels in prayer, an exercise that still goes on in some places, though with less agony and less certainty of address, this praying of less interest to the budding art historian or to the social historian or even to someone who has just wandered into the gallery out of the rain (and it is salutary to remind ourselves, here at the 311ALAN BENNETT Courtauld Institute, that that is what art is for most people) . . . this praying, as I say, of less interest to them than the reaper on the edge of a field in a Breughel, say, who has his hand up a woman’s dress, another exercise that still goes on in most places, though with no agony but the same certainty of address. Here is threshing, which we now do mechanically. Here is sex, which we do mechanically also. And here is crucifixion, which we do not do. Or do differently. Or do indifferently. It is a world in which time means nothing, the present overlaps the future, and did the saint but turn his head he would see his own martyrdom through the window. Blunt turns and on the other side of the stage, right, we see the double doors open to reveal a man in a trilby and raincoat carrying a briefcase. This is Chubb. Judas takes the pieces of silver in the Temple at the same moment as in the next field he hangs himself. Christ begs God in the garden to free him from a fate that is already happening higher up the hill. As the lectern or podium disappears Blunt steps back into the office where Chubb is waiting. Chubb is seemingly vague, seemingly amiable. Socially he is not in the same class as Blunt, who is sophisticated and metropolitan; Chubb, while not naive, is definitely suburban. The slides on the screen have changed to photographs of various young men, taken singly or enlarged from group photographs of colleges and teams; all date from the thirties and are in black and white. Following each denial by Blunt a new photograph comes up on the screen. Blunt No. No.N...n0, Chubb Sure? 312A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Blunt It’s the neck. The neck could be Piero della Francesca. Chubb Who's he? Blunt Well, he was many things, but he wasn’t a member of the Communist Party. (Pazse.) And in answer to your earlier question, the larger question, I would only say... again .. . it seemed the right thing to do at the time. Chubb One more? Blunt Do J have a choice? Chubb switches off the screen. Chubb You're probably tired. Blunt Not particularly. Chubb All these functions. Blunt I don’t go to what you call ‘functions’. Chubb If you’re in charge of the Queen’s pictures you must often have to be in attendance. Blunt Yes. On the pictures. Chubb I’m disappointed. Don’t you see the Queen? Blunt The Crown is a large organization. To ask me if I see the Queen is like asking a shopgirl if she sees Swan or Edgar. Chubb My wife saw her the other day. When she was visiting Surrey. Blunt Your wife? Chubb The Queen. She was up at six o’clock and secured an excellent vantage point outside Bentall’s. Her Majesty was heard to say ‘What a splendid shopping centre’. I wonder what she’s really like. 313ALAN BENNETT Blunt Look her up. You must have a file on her. Chubb Yes, we probably do. I meant, to chat to. Hob-nob with. As a person. You can't, of course, say. I appreciate that. Blunt Why can’t I say? Chubb Royal servants can’t, can they? Keeping mum is part of the job. It’s like the Official Secrets Act. (Pause.) I'm sorry. That was unkind. More snaps? Blunt says nothing. Some people do this for pleasure, you know. Holidays. Trips abroad. ‘This is a delightful couple we ran into on the boat. He’s in the Foreign Office and he’s a lorry driver.’ You must often get asked round to watch people’s slides. Blunt Never. Chubb You don’t live in Purley. Blunt No. Chubb switches on the screen with another photograph. How many more times. There is no one else that I know. Chubb This morning I got up, cup of tea, read the Telegraph, the usual routine. Nothing on the agenda for “today, I thought, why not toddle up to town and wander round the British Museum, sure to come across something of interest. Just turning into Great Russell Street when I remember there is something on the agenda. Your good self! What’s more, I’m due at the Courtauld Institute in five minutes. So J about turn and head for Portman Square. Pause. Blunt And? I was under the impression this narrative was leading somewhere. 314A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Chubb The point is, we sometimes know things we don’t know. A bit of me, you see, must have known that I was coming here. (He switches the screen off.) Have you ever caught Her Majesty in an unguarded moment? Blunt I thought it was my unguarded moments you were interested in. Chubb It’s just a titbit for my wife. Blunt My function here is not to provide your wife with fodder for the hairdresser’s. Chubb She thinks my job is so dull. Blunt And mine? Chubb [Pm sure you have colleagues who'd be delighted to be in your shoes. Blunt Really? Having to see you all the time? Chubb Oh. I was under the impression you enjoyed these little get-togethers. | always do. Blunt You nearly forgot. Chubb I forgot it was today. I thought you looked forward to these little chats. I thought it helped you relax. ‘All the time.’ It’s only once a month. I now feel ’'m a burden, (Pause.) We could always scrap them. It’s true we don’t seem to be getting anywhere. Blunt I wouldn’t want that. Chubb You've only to say the word. I don’t know, I must have got hold of the wrong end of the stick. I thought this was the way you wanted it. Blunt It is. It is. Chubb The alternative isn’t ruled out. If you feel that . . . 31SALAN BENNETT Blunt I don’t feel that at all. 1... I had a late night. Chubb You were at the Palace! Blunt Initially, yes. Chubb I knew you were. My wife saw your name in the paper. Well, I’m not surprised you’re tired. You must always be on tenterhooks, frightened to put a foot wrong, having to watch every word. You must find it a terrible strain. Blunt This? Chubb No. Talking to the Queen. What is she really like? Blunt Should we look at some more photographs? Chubb In a moment. I’m upset that you find our talks wearisome. Blunt I don’t. I don’t. It was an unforgivable remark. And not the case. On the whole I find them . . . stimulating. Chubb Do you? Now truthfully. Blunt They keep me on my toes. Chubb I’m glad. Are you liked, by the way? Blunt By whom? Chubb I don’t know. It occurs to me that you work rather hard at being a cold fish. Blunt My pupils like me. My colleagues. . . don’t know. Thave a life, you see. Two lives. Some of my colleagues scarcely have one. : Chubb They don’t know about your other life. Blunt In the Household. Chubb I see. In that case, three lives. But who’s counting, 316A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION (He laughs. Suddenly switches on the screen with anew photograph.) You don’t know this boy? Not a boy now, of course. Might have a beard. Blunt Should I? Who is he? Chubb Nobody. The next photograph is of a guardsman in uniform. Blunt No. The same guardsman now naked. Chubb Goodness gracious. How did that get here? Dear me. Just think if one of your students knocked at the door. Two gentlemen looking at a picture of a naked guardsman. What would they think? Blunt They might think it was Art. Or they might think it was two gentleman looking at a picture of a naked guardsman. They would be profoundly unstartled by either. Chubb switches off the screen. Chubb Do you ever go to the National Gallery? Blunt One has to from time to time. Though I avoid opening hours. The public make it so intolerable. Chubb I went in the other day. Blunt Really? Chubb First time in yonks. Blunt Good. Chubb No, not good. Not good at all. Better off sticking to museums. Museums I know where Iam. An art gallery, Talways come out feeling restless and dissatisfied. Troubled. 317ALAN BENNETT Blunt Oh dear. Chubb In a museum I’m informed, instructed. But with art. . . I don’t know. Is it that I don’t get anything out of the pictures? Or the pictures don’t get anything out of me? What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to feel? Blunt What do you feel? Chubb Baffled. And also knackered. I ended up ona banquette looking at the painting that happened to be. opposite and I thought, well, at least I can try and take this one in. But no. Mind you, I hate shopping. I suppose for you an art gallery is home from home. Blunt Some more than others. Home is hardly the word for the Hayward Chubb But you'll know, for instance, what order they all come in, the paintings? Blunt Well... Yes... one does . . . quite early on... acquire a sense of the sequence, the chronology of art. Shouldn't we be getting on? Chubb You see, I don’t have that. P’'ve no map. And yet I know there’s a whole world there. Blunt Yes. Chubb I’m determined to crack it. P’'m like that. A year ago I couldn’t have changed a fuse. Started going down to the library, the odd evening class; I’ve just rewired the whole house. What I thought I'd do with this was start at the beginning before artists had really got the hang of it ... perspective, for instance, a person and a house the same size (I can’t understand how they couldn’t just see). And then I’m planning to follow it through until the Renaissance when the penny begins to drop and they start 318A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION painting what is actually - you know — there. How does that strike you as an approach? It’s not too sophisticated. Blunt No. One couldn’t honestly say that. It incorporates one or two misconceptions, which it would not at this stage be very useful to go into. Mustn’t run before we can walk. Chubb Tell me. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. Blunt Shouldn’t we be looking at more photographs? Chubb Ina minute. The chronological approach is a mistake? Blunt Not in itself. But art has no goal. It evolves but it does not necessarily progress. Just as the history of politics isn’t simply a progress towards parliamentary democracy, so the history of painting isn’t simply a progress towards photographic realism. Different periods have different styles, different ways of seeing the world. And what about the Impressionists or Matisse or Picasso? Chubb Oh, I think they could do it properly if they wanted to. They just got bored. Blunt is exasperated. That’s the way art galleries are arranged. Crude beginnings, growing accomplishment, mastery of all the techniques . . . then to hell with the rules, let’s kick it around a bit. Blunt But why should a plausible illusion of nature be the standard? Do we say Giotto isn’t a patch on Michelangelo because his figures are less lifelike? Chubb Michelangelo? I don’t think they are all that lifelike, frankly. The women aren't. They’re just like men with tits, and the tits look as if they’ve been put on with an ice-cream scoop. Has nobody pointed that out? 3u9ALAN BENNETT Blunt Not in quite those terms. Pause. Chubb Are you sure your students like you? Blunt Discussion is seldom at this level. Chubb You’re finding me wearisome again. Blunt These painters — Giotto, Piero — they aren’t so many failed Raphaels, Leonardos without the know-how. Try to look at them as contemporaries did, judge them on their own terms, not as prefiguring some (to them) unknown future. They didn’t know Raphael was going to do it better. Chubb To be quite honest I haven’t got to Raphael. But where have I heard that argument before? Blunt If you were planning on going to the British Museum, how was it you remembered to bring the photographs? Chubb I know. It’s exactly the same argument you were using to explain what you did in the thirties: it seemed the right thing to do at the time. Giotto didn’t have a grasp on perspective and neither did you. The difference being, of course, that art has no consequences. Blunt How did you remember the photographs? Chubb I didn’t. I nipped up to the office for them. Good. try, though. (He switches on the screen and the photographs start again.) Blunt No. Photo. No. ‘Titian and a Venetian Senator now comes up on the 320— ro - A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION screen as we saw it in the opening scene with two figures. The Restorer stands right of the screen as before. Restorer This was befote cleaning. (He punches up a slide of the picture after cleaning, now with a third figure [Figure 2].) This is after cleaning. Blunt I thought there must be something there. With just the two of them, it didn’t make sense as a composition. Restorer Quite. Though it doesn’t make a lot of sense as a composition now. Blunt No? Restorer Look at Titian. The scale is all wrong. He looks as if he belongs in a different picture. Blunt He does, of course. It’s a copy. Restorer Yes. Blunt From the Berlin self-portrait. Restorer Yes. Blunt But at least we know who he is. And who the Chancellor is. But who is the new man? An X-ray, do you think? Restorer Can’t do any harm. Blunt Wish it were a better picture. Got the velvet rather well. The Restorer disappears as a photograph of more young men comes up on the screen. Chubb And who is the other figure? Blunt I don’t know. - Chubb You've identified him before in a different context. 325ALAN BENNETT Blunt So why are you asking me again? Chubb It’s the context we’re interested in. Photograph. Who’s this? Blunt His name was Baker. He was at Oxford. Balliol, possibly, Chubb Handsome. Blunt Is he? Chubb Isn’t he? Blunt Dead, anyway. Chubb Naturally. When was that? Blunt The death? Chubb The photograph. Blunt August Bank Holiday, 1935. Margate. Chubb Vanished world. Hooligans on scooters nowadays. Photograph. Who are these gentlemen? Blunt Chums of Burgess. Cameron Highlanders, I think. Kilted jobs anyway. Chubb Two in a row. Progress. Blunt Not really. I don’t suppose they had access to any information above latrine roster level. Chubb They probably had other qualities. Blunt J once had a photograph of Burgess with his head under one of their kilts. 322A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Photograph. Chubb This one? Pause. Blunt Yes. Chubb Odd, isn’t it, that its the irrelevant details that you can recall, An August Bank Holiday in Margate. Not Worthing. Not the Seaforth Highlanders but the Camerons. (Chubb drops several slides on the floor. He picks them up.) Facts, faces, you might be expected to remember you forget. Blunt That's the way with memory. The canvas is vague. The details stand out. Chubb It could get tiresome. Photograph. Blunt No. Photograph. No. A slide of Titian’s Allegory of Prudence has come up on the screen, in colour [Figure 3}. N-Oh yes. Chubb Sorry. Must have picked up one of yours. Blunt No. Leave it. At least Ican tell you their names. But perhaps you know it. It’s in the National Gallery. How far have you got on your safari through the nation’s masterpieces? Have you reached Titian? Chubb Don’t tell me. Venetian. Sixteenth century. A contemporary of Tintoretto and Veronese. In some sense the founder of modern painting. 323ALAN BENNETT Blunt In what sense? Chubb Well, in the sense that he painted character. Blunt Mmm, though it’s not the slightest use knowing that unless you recognize one of his pictures when you see one. Chubb Is this typical? Blunt Actually, no. Chubb Ah. Blunt Though it is Titian at the top of his form. Done towards the end of his life. . . Chubb Didn’t he live until he was ninety-nine? Blunt That has been disputed. What cannot be disputed is the style, shining with all the autumnal magnificence of his ultima maniera. Chubb Too plush for me, Titian. All fur and fabric. Don’t like the look of that dog. Blunt That’s because that dog is a wolf. (He points to a creature on the right.) That dog is a dog. Chubb Still wouldn’t want to be the postman. Who are they all? Blunt The old man on the left is Titian himself. Chubb He /ooks ninety-nine. Blunt .. . The middle-aged man in the centre is Titian’s son, and the young man on the right is probably his adopted grandson. Chubb I don’t care for it, quite honestly. Blunt Oh. Chubb Something of the three wise monkeys about it. 324A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Blunt That’s not an altogether foolish remark. Chubb Good for Chubb. Why? Blunt Because it’s an emblematic painting, a puzzle picture. A visual paraphrase of the Three Ages of Man, obviously, but something else besides. The clue is the animals. Chubb Was he fond of animals? Blunt Titian? I've no idea. Shouldn’t think so for a moment. People weren't. Chubb Rembrandt was. Rembrandt liked dogs. Blunt Rembrandt’s dogs, Titian’s age. Ican see you've been down at the Purley Public Library again. Except that Rembrandt’s dogs are different. Rembrandt’s dogs tend to be just dogs. This dog is hardly a dog at all. Chubb You mean it’s a symbol of fidelity? Blunt It can be. Chubb Hence Fido. And the wolf is symbol of gluttony. Blunt One hopes the security of the nation is not being neglected in favour of your studies in iconography. Chubb One picks it up, you know. Blunt (sharply) Well, if you do ‘pick it up’, pick it up properly. Yes, a dog is a symbol of fidelity and a wolf of gluttony, but occurring together as they do here, in conjunction with the lion, they are disparate parts of a three-headed beast which from classical times onwards has been a symbol of prudence. Hence the title of the picture: the Allegory of Prudence. Chubb And I thought I was getting the hang of it. Blunt There isn’t a ‘hang of it’. There isn’t a kit. A wolf B25ALAN BENNETT can mean gluttony, a dog fidelity, and treachery a cat. But not always. Not automatically. Take the owl. It can be a bird of wisdom, but since it is a bird of the night it can represent the opposite, ignorance and wilful blindness. Hardest of all to accept, it can be just an owl. Of course, one shouldn’t blame you. You’re just carrying over the techniques of facile identification favoured in your profession, into mine . . . where it isn’t quite like that. Appearances deceive. Art is seldom quite what it seems. Chubb Back to the drawing-board. Perhaps we should do _ some more. Blunt Art? Chubb Facile identification. Blunt No. Photograph. No. Photograph. No. Actually, that face does ring a bell. Chubb Yes? (He goes back to the last photograph.) Blunt I’ve seen it. Chubb Who is he? Blunt I told you. Titian’s son, Chubb I thought for one delirious moment we were about to make progress. Blunt Where is it? Come along, come along. This is how you learn. Chubb goes back through the photographs until he reaches the Titian again. Thave seen him. Where? 326A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION ‘A knock at the door. Phillips, a student, stands silhouetted in the doorway. Phillips It’s Phillips, sic. Blunt I shan’t keep you a moment. I have to teach now. Since Mr Phillips is paying for his time I think he has priority. Perhaps you might wait outside, Phillips, we haven't quite finished. Chubb We haven’t even started. Phillips exits. Chubb gathers up the photographs and puts them in his briefcase. I'm not good at cracking the whip. I enjoy our talks. Blunt (consulting a reference book) So you keep saying. Chubb Eyebrows are beginning to be raised. The phrase “stringing you along’ has been mentioned. The feeling is, you see, that you may just be the baby thrown out of the sleigh to slow down the wolves. Blunt And who are these wolves? Chubb They’re like this one (i the Titian). They look back. They’re the ones with hindsight. You’ve told us some names. You've not told us the names behind the names. Blunt Can Lask you something? Who else knows? Chubb Do you mean, down the road? Somebody had to be told, You were promised immunity, not anonymity. What do you think of the Wallace Collection? Should] go there? Blunt Their Poussin apart, it’s a bit chocolate box. Chubb They have the Laughing Cavalier. Blunt Exactly. Come in, Phillips. Chubb leaves as Phillips comes in. 327ALAN BENNETT Phillips I've seen him once or twice. He comes into the library. Blunt Yes. He’s a mature student. Phillips I’d say he was a policeman. Blunt Do you have a suit? Phillips Suit? Blunt Jacket, trousers, preferably matching. Even, by some sartorial miracle, a waistcoat. Phillips I do, as a matter of fact. Blunt And is it handy, or is it in Thornton Heath? Phillips I think I can put my hands on it without too much trouble. Blunt Well, go away and put your hands on it and your legs into it and telephone me here at two o’clock. Phillips Why, what’s happening? Blunt Nothing. A little extra-mural work. Off you go. Phillips goes as the lights fade. Blunt turns to gaze at the Allegory of Prudence then switches off the projector as the scene changes. Blunt’s room recedes, a red carpet runs the breadth of the stage, gilt console tables appear and an elaborate banquette, set against a wall covered in (not over-exciting) paintings. We are in a corridor of Buckingham Palace and prominent among the paintings hanging on the wall is the Triple Portrait (Figure 2). Colin, a young footman in an apron, comes on carrying 4 picture. He puts the picture down as Phillips, now in a suit, follows him carrying a step-ladder and looking wonderingly at the pictures and the furniture. 328‘A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Colin Jumble. Bric-d-brac. Phillips This is a Raphael. Colin The regal equivalent of the fish-slice or the chromium cake-stand. A downstairs attic, this corridor. (Pause.) And it’s not Raphael. It’s school of. Phillips How would you know? Colin Because I dust it. Phillips keeps looking up and down the corridor. Nobody’s coming. Sir is out practising with his horse and cart, and madam is opening a swimming-bath. Though in the unlikely event anyone does come by, disappear. They are happier thinking the place runs itself. Phillips is looking at an ornate clock. Like that, do you? Phillips Liking doesn’t necessarily come into it. Colin It’s ormolu. I've always had a soft spot for ormolu. Childhood, I suppose. Ormolu’s fairly thin on the ground in Bethnal Green. Phillips is now looking at a painting. Phillips Some of these are in terrible condition. Colin I can’t think why. They get a wipe over with a damp cloth quite regularly. Phillips How did you come to work here? Colin It was either this or the police force. I had the qualifications. Presentable. Good-looking in a standard sort of way. I might even be thought to be public school until I opened my mouth, But of course you don’t open 329ALAN BENNETT your mouth. That's one of the conditions of employment. So are you top boy? Blunt bas come on, unseen by Phillips. Phillips. What? Colin Earned yourself a trip to the Palace, you must have something. Blunt He does. A suit. Fool of a policeman on the gate. Insisted on going through my briefcase. He said, ‘Do you have anything explosive?’ I said, “Yes, I certainly do. An article for the Burlington Magazine on Sebastiano del Piombo that is going to blow the place sky-high.’ Not amused. I've been walking through that gate for ten years. How are you today, Colin? Colin Perfectly all right, thank you. Blunt looks at the Triple Portrait. Blunt We're going to take these gentlemen down and put this in its place. This, (He hands the replacement picture to Phillips.) as you can see, is an Annunciation. Perhaps, Phillips, you could give us a technical description of the panel. Phillips Well, it’s constructed of two planks, joined by a horizontal brace . . . Blunt Two planks of what? Phillips Wood. Blunt Oak? Ash? Chipboard? Phillips It’s probably poplar. Blunt Why? Phillips Because it generally is. (He turns it over.) 330A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Blunt So that’s the back finished, is it? What about the frame? Phillips Gilt. Blunt Old gilt or modern gilt? Phillips Ican’t tell. Blunt Colin, any thoughts? Colin Modern, I'd have said. Relatively, anyway. Glazing generally well-preserved. Some worm but there seems to be very little retouching. Number of holes haye been repaired, particularly round knots in the wood. It is poplar, actually. Some re-touching here, see. Minute flaking along the outline of the angel’s robe. A few pentimenti visible to the naked eye, most clearly the fingers of the Virgin’s left hand. Reserve judgement on the attribution, but a preliminary impression would suggest Sienna. Blunt Good. Phillips, the steps. Colin, would you move the banquette. Blunt looks fixedly at the Triple Portrait on the wall. Hold the steps. (He ascends the steps.) This painting was in the collection of Charles I where it was ascribed to Titian, and it hung with other, rather more plausible, Titians in the palace at Whitchall. Blunt is addressing this speech to the painting while examining it closely. Meamubile Colin spots Someone approaching off-stage right. He nudges Phillips, indicating he should go. Colin Sir. Blunt Shut up. It was sold off after Charles I’s execution but was recovered by Charles I and hung quite happily in 33%ALAN BENNETT the royal collection, nobody having any doubts about it at all until the end of the nineteenth century. Titian’s beard is so badly done it looks as if it hooks on behind the ears. Colin and Phillips hurriedly scarper, stage left. The stage is empty for a moment or two as Blunt goes on talking to the picture. One lesson to be learned from paintings as indifferent as this, is that there is no such thing as a royal collection. It is rather a royal accumulation. HMQ has entered, quite slowly. She looks. She is about to pass on. Could you hand me my glass. (Blunt puts his hand down without looking.) It’s on the table. Come along - we haven't got all day. HMQ thinks twice but then hands him his glass. Thank you. I thought so. Where are my notes? (He comes down, still with his back to HMQ.) You're supposed to be holding the steps. I could have fallen flat on my face. HMQ I think you already have. Blunt Your Majesty, I’m so sorry. HMQ Not at all. One was most instructed. You were about to make a note. Blunt It can wait, Ma’am. HMQ No. Carry on, do it now, Ignore me. Blunt Very well, Ma’am. HMQ looks at the picture while Blunt scribbles a note. HMQ And how did we accumulate this particular picture? 332A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Blunt It belonged to Charles I, Ma’am. HMQ King Charles I? Blunt Ma’am. It was thought to be by Titian. HMQ And now it isn’t? Blunt Not altogether, Ma’am. HMQ I suppose that is part of your function, Sir Anthony, to prove that my pictures are fakes? Blunt Because something is not what it is said to be, Ma’am, does not mean it is a fake. It may just have been wrongly attributed. HMQ Yes, It’s a fine face, though he looks as if he could do with some fresh air. Who is he? Blunt His name is Andrea Franceschi. He was Chancellor of Venice. HMQ We were in Venice two years ago. Unusual place. So. Now that it’s a fake, what are you planning to do with it? Put it out for the binmen? Blunt A painting is a document, Ma’am. It has to be read in the context of art history. HMQ Has art always had a history? It’s all the thing now, isn’t it, but one doesn’t remember it when one was young. There was art appreciation. Blunt Art history is a part of art appreciation, Ma’am. We know that in this painting the old man is Titian himself; it’s copied from one of his self-portraits. That's the Chancellor of Venice, but this other gentleman is something of a mystery. I’m trying to identify him, and with your permission, Ma’am, I'd like to remove the painting to examine it at my leisure. 333ALAN BENNETT HMQ Remove it? I’m not sure I want that. It would leave us with a horrid hole. Blunt I have something to put in its place, Ma’am. (Indicating the Annunciation.) It’s an Annunciation. HMQ Yes, I know what it is. Blunt You’re not attached to this particular picture, are you, Ma’am? HMQ No, but it’s there, you know. One’s used to it. Blunt I think it was Gertrude Stein who said that after a while even the best pictures turn into wallpaper, HMQ Really? This wallpaper is pure silk. | was shown some silkworms once in Sri Lanka. It’s their cocoons, you know, Blunt Yes. I had understood Ma’am wasn’t going to be here this afternoon. HMQ Obviously. I had understood I wasn’t going to be here, either. I was due to open a swimming pool. Completed on Friday, filled on Saturday, it cracked on Sunday and today it’s as dry as a bone. So this afternoon one is, to some extent, kicking one’s heels. Blunt That must make a nice change. HMQ Not altogether. One likes to know in advance what one is going to be doing, even if one is going to be hanging about. If 1 am doing nothing, I like to be doing nothing to some purpose. That is what leisure means. (She indicates an object on a table.) This ostrich egg was given us by the people of Samoa. It hasn’t quite found its place yet. Titian. Blunt Ma’am? HMQ That isn’t really your period, is it? 334A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Blunt In what way? HMQ You are an expert on Poussin, are you not? Blunt That’s right, Ma’am. HMQ Chicken. Blunt Ma’am? HMQ Poussin. French for chicken. One has just had it for lunch. I suppose it’s fresh in the mind. It was one of what I call my All Walks of Life luncheons. Today we had the head of the CBI, an Olympic swimmer, a primary school headmistress, a General in the Salvation Army, and Glenda Jackson, It was a bit sticky. Blunt [ve been to one, Ma’am. That was a bit sticky, too. HMQ The trouble is, whenever I meet anybody they’re always on their best behaviour. And when one is on one’s best behaviour one isn’t always at one’s best. I don’t understand it. They all have different jobs, there ought to be heaps to talk about, yet I’m always having to crank it up. Blunt The truth is, Ma’am, one doesn’t have much to say to people very different from oneself. If you’d had the General in the Salvation Army, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the President of the Methodist Conference, they could all have talked about God, and lunch would have been a howling success. HMQ Yes. And guess who would have been staring at her plate. And think if they were all actors. Blunt At least they would talk, Ma’am. HMQ Correction, Sir Anthony. They wouldn’t talk. They would chat. One doesn’t want chat. I don’t like chat. Blunt Weren’t we chatting about Poussin? 335ALAN BENNETT HMQ Were we? Well, we mustn’t. We must do it properly. Feed me facts, Sir Anthony. | like a fact. What were his dates? Blunt 1595 to 1665. HMQ Seventy. A good age for those days. How many pictures did he do? Blunt Er... HIMQ Don’t you know? Blunt I’ve never been asked that question before, Ma’am. He wasn’t a prolific artist. HMQ Have we got any? Blunt Paintings, no, Ma’am, but what you do have is a priceless collection of drawings. HMQ Oh dear, So many of my things are priceless. Doubly so, really. Priceless because one can’t put a price on them, and then if one did one wouldn’t be allowed to sell them. Do you have pictures? Blunt One or two, Ma’am. HMQ Are they valuable? Blunt Yes, but they are not invaluable. Though I do have a Poussin. HMQ You mean you have one and we don’t? Something wrong there. Blunt Do you take any pleasure in acquisition, Ma’am? HMQ Why? I’m not asking you to make me a present of it. That was one of my grandmother’s tricks, Queen Mary. Acquired no end of stuff. Accumulated it. But pleasure in buying things? No. I like buying horses, as everybody knows, but why not? I know about them. But you're right. 336A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION One more Fabergé egg isn’t going to make my day. Go on with your work. Don’t let me stop you. Blunt It seems rude. HMQ I'm used to it. My days are spent watching people work. My work is watching people work. Blunt Very well, Ma’am. (He goes on making noies.) HMQ What is it you want to know about the painting? Blunt Many things. It’s a problem picture. HMQ Not to me. But then I don’t suppose wallpaper can be a problem, can it? Where will you take it? Blunt The laboratory. HIMQ Oh dear. I don’t know. But I’m inclined to say no. It’s the constant va et vient of one’s things. A monarch has been defined as someone who doesn’t have to look round before sitting down. No longer. One has to look round nowadays because the odds are the Chippendale is on exhibition. (She picks up a bowl.) This rose bowl was a wedding present from the people of Jersey. Blunt Do you still have all your wedding presents, Ma’am? HMQ Not all. For instance, it was 1947. Clothes were still rationed. Result was, one was inundated with nylons. I don’t still have them. Do you like it? Blunt Not altogether, Ma’am. HMQ Ido, quite. But then I’ve never set much store by taste. That, after all, is your job. In mine, taste isn’t such a good idea. When one looks at my predecessors the monarchs with the best taste. . . I'm thinking of Charles I and George II and IV. . . made a terrible hash of the rest of it. [don’t think taste helps. Do you paint? 337ALAN BENNETT Blunt I’m afraid not, Ma’am. J have no skill in that department. HMQ Nor me. The Prince of Wales paints, and my husband. They both claim it is very soothing. As a child I found it the reverse. My colours always used to run. | like things to have a line round them. Blunt Ma’am must have had more experience of painters than most. HMQ In what way? \ Blunt Through having your portrait painted. HMQ Ob, that. Yes. Though one gets the impression that as artists portrait painters don’t really count. Not nowadays anyway. | Blunt They're seldom standard-bearers of the avant-garde, Ma’am. HMQ They would hardly be painting me if they were. One doesn’t want two noses. Mind you, that would make one no more unrecognizable than some of their efforts. No resemblance at all. Sometimes I think it would be simpler to send round to Scotland Yard for an Identikit. Still I can understand it when they get me wrong, but some of them get the horse wrong too. That’s unforgivable. Blunt It’s true none of them quite capture you. HMQ [hope not. I don’t think one wants to be captured, does one? Not entirely, anyway. Blunt You sound like one of those primitive tribes who believe an image confers some power on the possessor. HMQ If] believed that, Sir Anthony, I am in the pocket of anyone with a handful of change. Blunt Portrait painters tend to regard faces as not very 338A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION still lives. There was one eminent portrait painter who said he wished he could hang his sitters upside down by the leg like a dead hare. HMQ Yes. Well, one Minister of the Arts wanted to loose Francis Bacon on me, and that’s probably how I would have ended up. He did the Screaming Pope, didn’t he? I suppose I would have been the Screaming Queen. He laughs. She doesn’t. She picks up something else. This is charming, isn’t it? It’s antelope horn. A gift from the National Association of Girls’ and Mixed Clubs. Nowadays, of course, they don’t even do sketches; they take photographs, then take them home and copy them. I think that’s cheating. Blunt I'm sure Michelangelo would have used the camera, Ma’am, if it had been invented. And Leonardo would probably have invented it. He laughs, but she doesn’t. HMQ You see, I would call doing it from a photograph, tracing. Art, to my mind, has to be what we used to call freehand drawing. If you paint it from a photograph one might as well have a photograph. Blunt The portrait everybody likes best does look like a photograph. HMQ The Annigoni. I like that one too. Portraits are supposed to be frightfully self-revealing, aren't they, good ones? Show what one’s really like. The secret self. Either that, or the eyes are supposed to follow you round the room. I don’t know that one has a secret self. Though it’s generally assumed that one has. If it could be proved that one hadn't, some of the newspapers would have precious little to write about. Have you had your portrait painted? 339ALAN BENNETT Blunt No, Ma’am. HMQ So we don’t know whether you have a secret self. Blunt I think the only person who doesn’t have a secret self, Ma’am, must be God. HMQ Oh? How is that? Blunt There is no sense in which one could ask, ‘What is God really like?’ Never off duty — he must always be the same. It must make it very dull. There can be no gossip in Heaven. HMQ Good. I don’t like gossip. This clock shows the time not only here but also in Perth, Western Australia. In certain circumstances it could be quite handy. I suppose for me Heaven is likely to be a bit of a comedown. What about you? Blunt Pm not sure I’ll get in, Ma’am. HMQ Why on earth not? You’ve done nothing wrong. Your father was a clergyman, after all. Are all owners co- operative about lending their pictures? Blunt None as co-operative as yourself, Ma’am. HMQ That is the kind of remark, Sir Anthony, were it in a play, to which one would reply ‘Tush! Blunt Truly, Ma’am. HMQ Well, I think I’m going to blot my copybook on this one and persuade you to take St Sebastian instead. Blunt He wouldn’t be much use to me, Ma’am. HMQ Not much use to anybody. I find him faintly ludicrous. Turned into a human pincushion, and he just looks as if it were a minor inconvenience. Blunt The saints tended to be like that, Ma’am. Though 340A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION there’s more excuse for St Sebastian as he didn’t actually die of his wounds. HMQ Oh. That was lucky. Blunt He survived and was flogged to death. HMQ Oh dear. Out of the frying-pan into the fire. And what about this Annunciation you want to foist on to me? Where’s it been? In the cellar? Blunt Hampton Court. HMQ Same thing. What should I know about the Annunciation? Come along. Facts. Blunt The Virgin is traditionally discovered reading. It’s quite amusing that as time went on painters tended to elevate the status of the Holy Family, so that Joseph, from being a simple carpenter, eventually comes to be depicted as a full-blown architect; and the Virgin, who to begin with is just given a book, ends up with a reading desk and a whole library, so that in some later versions Gabriel looks as if he is delivering his message to the Mistress of Girton. He laughs. She doesn’t. HMQ Girton, Cambridge? Blunt Yes, Ma’am. HMQ I opened them a new kitchen. Their gas cookers are among the most advanced in East Anglia. You see, one reason why I prefer that to this is that in a home (and this is a home, albeit only one of one’s homes) one doesn’t want too many pictures of what I would call a religious flavour. I mean, this isn’t a church. Besides, this (the Triple Portrait) I think is rather unusual, whereas Annunciations are quite common. When we visited Florence we were taken round the art gallery there, and there — well, I won’t 341ALAN BENNETT say Annunciations are two a penny, but they certainly were quite thick on the ground. And not all of them very convincing. My husband remarked that one of them looked to him like the messenger arriving from Littlewoods Pools. And that the Virgin was protesting she had put a cross for no publicity. Fortunately, Signor de Gasperi’s English was not good, or we should have had the Pope on our tracks. (HMO picks up an object.) Do you know what this is made out of? Coal. Given us by the Welsh miners. How long would you want it for, my Titian? My fake Titian. Blunt A few weeks. HMQ Oh, very well. You see, what I don’t like is the assumption that one doesn’t notice, one doesn’t care. Still, we're off to Zambia next week, so that will cushion the blow. One never stops, you know. Governments come and go. Or don’t go. One never stops. Could I ask you a question, Sir Anthony? Have I many forgeries? What about these? Blunt Paintings of this date are seldom forgeries, Ma’am. They are sometimes not what we think they are, but that’s different. The question doesn’t pose itself in the form, ‘Is this a fake?’ so much as ‘Who painted this picture and why?’ Is it Titian, or a pupil or pupils of Titian? Is it someone who paints like Titian because he admires him and can’t help painting in the same way? The public are rather tiresomely fascinated by forgery — more so, I’m afraid, than they are by the real thing. HMQ Yes, well, as a member in this instance (somewhat unusually for me) of the public, I also find forgery fascinating. Blunt Paintings make no claims, Ma’am. They do not purport to be anything other than paintings. It is we, the 342A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION beholders, who make claims for them, attribute a picture to this artist or that. HMQ With respect, Sir Anthony, rubbish. What ifa painting is signed and the signature is a forgery? Blunt Forgery of that kind is much more a feature of modern or relatively modern paintings than of Old Masters, Ma’am. HMQ Again, Sir Anthony, I find myself having to disagree with you. We were in Holland not long ago and after we had been taken to see the tulips and a soil structure laboratory, Queen Juliana showed us her Vermeers. One has a Vermeer, so one was quite interested. Blunt I think I know what you are going to say, Ma’am. HMQ gives him a sharp look. . . . but please go ahead and say it. HMQ Thank you, and (though you’re obviously ahead of me) she showed us some of the forged Vermeers done by a Masi Blunt Van Meegeren. HMQ Quite. Those were forgeries. Of Old Masters. Blunt Ma’am is quite right. HMQ Moreover, these Van Meegerens didn’t seem to me to be the least bit like. Terrible daubs. God knows, one is no expert on Vermeer, but if I could tell they were fakes why couldn’t other people see it at the time? ‘When was it, in the forties? Blunt It’s a complicated question, Ma’am. HMQ Oh, don’t spare me. Remember I could have been opening a swimming bath. 343ALAN BENNETT Blunt What has exposed them as forgeries, Ma’am, is not any improvement in perception, but time. Though a forger reproduce in the most exact fashion the style and detail of his subject, as a painter he is nevertheless of his time and however slavishly he imitates, he does it in the fashion of his time, in a way that is contemporary, and with the passage of years it is this element that dates, begins to seem old-fashioned, and which eventually unmasks him. HMQ Interesting. I suppose too the context of the painting matters. Its history and provenance (is that the word?) confer on it a certain respectability. This can’t be a forgery, it’s in such and such a collection, its background. and pedigree are impeccable — besides, it has been vetted by the experts. Isn’t that how the argument goes? So if one comes across a painting with the right background and pedigree, Sir Anthony, then it must be hard, I imagine - even inconceivable — to think that it is not what it claims to be. And even supposing someone in such circumstances did have suspicions, they would be chary about voicing them. Easier to leave things as they are in every department. Stick to the official attribution rather than let the cat out of the bag and say, ‘Here we have a fake.’ Blunt I still think the word ‘fake’ is inappropriate, Ma’am. HMQ If something is not what it is claimed to be, what is it? Blunt An enigma? HMQ That is, I think, the sophisticated answer. It’s curious, Sir Anthony, but all the time we have been talking, there has been a young man skulking behind one of my Louis XV bergéres (a gift from the de Gaulles). Do you think he is waiting to assassinate one, or does he have an interest in that particular ébéniste? 344A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION Blunt My assistant, Ma’am. HMQ I think it’s time he was flushed from his lair. Come in, hiddy or not, young man. Phillips comes on left. Blunt This is Mr Phillips, Ma’am, a student at the Courtauld Institute. Phillips Your Majesty. HMQ What do you plan to do with your art history? Phillips 1 am hoping to go into one of the big auction houses, Ma’am. HMQ Jolly good. That should keep you out of mischief. Did you ever consider that, Sir Anthony? Blunt No, Ma’am. HMQ Oh. Well, I must be on my way. Not, I think, a wasted afternoon. One has touched upon art, learned a little iconography, and something of fakes and forgery. Facts not chat. Of course, had I been opening the swimming bath I would have picked up one or two facts there: the pumping system; the filter process; the precautions against infectious diseases of the feet. All facts. One never knows when they may come in handy. Be careful how you go up the ladder, Sir Anthony. One could have a nasty fall. Blunt Ma’am. HMQ Mr Phillips. (HMQ exits left.) Phillips She seems quite on the ball. Blunt Oh, yes. Phillips The furniture, the pictures. I thought it was all horses. 345ALAN BENNETT Colin enters left. Colin What the hell was madam doing here? What happened to the swimming bath? Phillips There was a leak. Colin I bet that made her shirty. They like their routine. Blunt Strange about the Royal Family. They ask you a great deal but tell you very little. Colin What were you talking about? Blunt I was talking about art. I’m not sure that she was. Come on, let’s get this bloody picture down. Blunt watches as Colin takes down the Triple Portrait and replaces it with the Annunciation. As Colin carries off the Triple Portrait the Palace set disappears and Blunt, pointer in hand, is once more found lecturing at the Courtauld Institute. And should we compare these two paintings it is plain straightaway that they do not compare — at any rate in terms of quality. One, the Allegory of Prudence, (Slide of the Allegory of Prudence [Figure 3]) wholly authentic, Titian at the height of his powers, the other (Slide of the Triple Portrait [Figure 2]) a hotchpotch, a studio job, Titian’s hand possibly to be detected in the striking central figure but nowhere else. But let us leave quality and authenticity aside while I direct your attention to two of the personages depicted in the paintings. A composite slide with Titian’s son from the Allegory of Prudence on the left and the third man from the Triple Portrait on the right (Figure 4). On the left, Titian’s son Orazio Vecelli as he appears in the Allegory of Prudence. No doubt about him or his identity and rather a bruiser he looks, like one of those 346A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION extravagant villains in an early Chaplin film. On the right, altogether more civilized, if not so well painted, is this gentleman. Younger, perhaps, and with a beard which has not yet achieved its full tropical luxuriance, but with the same eyes, the same nose, surely this is the same man. Titian’s son also. The identification has never been made, and I make it now only tentatively and, I hasten to say, to no larger purpose, because even if correct I cannot say it helps to solve the riddle of this picture — if indeed it is a riddle worth solving, But riddle there undoubtedly is as I shall show you. Let us look at the painting as it was when it first turns up in the collection of Charles I some three hundred and fifty years ago. Catalogued as Titian and a Venetian Senator, you will note that it then contained only two figures. Slide of the Triple Portrait before cleaning (Figure x). When I was appointed Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures, I had the painting cleaned, and the presence of the mysterious gentleman on the right was revealed. Slide of the Triple Portrait after cleaning (Figure 2). So, having started with two men, we now have a third man. And that is how the picture looks at the moment. But that is only how it looks. Because in.addition to being cleaned, I also had the picture X-rayed. And the X-ray revealed a fourth man. Slide of an X-ray photograph of the Triple Portrait.” And that was not the end of it either, for if we rotate the X-ray we find behind the original pair and the third and fourth man the rather more substantial figure of a fifth man. * As reproduced in the Burlington Magazine, vol. 100, 1958. 347ALAN BENNETT Slide of the X-ray rotated. The fifth man, you will doubtless be relieved to learn, is the last of the sitters lurking in this somewhat over- populated canvas. Who all these figures are and who painted them we do not know. It may be that the third man is indeed Titian’s son, but even so that does not help us identify the fourth man or the fifth. And why, you're entitled to ask, does it matter? This is not an important picture, just a murky corner of sixteenth-century art history that wants clearing up but won't be. It matters, I suggest to you, as a warning. Slide of the Triple Portrait (Figure 2). This painting is a riddle, and this and similar riddles are quests one can pursue for years; their solution is one of the functions of the art historian. But it is only one of his functions. Art history is seldom thought of as a hazardous profession. But a life spent teasing out riddles of this kind carries its own risks . . . a barrenness of outlook, a pedantry that verges on the obsessive, and a farewell to common sense; the rule of the hobby horse. Because, though the solution might add to our appreciation of this painting, paintings, we must never forget, are not there primarily to be solved. A great painting will still elude us, as art will always elude exposition. The transition from lecture hall to Blunt's room begins as the light grows on Chubb, in raincoat. He picks up a paper from Blunt’s desk and reads it. Chubb A long time ago when I first started, I thought... or thought that I thought . . . that art was in the front line. Lused to review then. I was the art critic of The Spectator ...and I sang the praises of realism from Rembrandt to Rivera, deplored Picasso and abstraction . . . inaccessible to the people, I suppose. What none of us, I suppose, 348A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION realized then was that the people would mean the public to the extent it does today. Blunt enters. He is in full evening dress with the ribbons and medals of his various orders and decorations. He carries a bottle of whisky and two glasses. What's this? Blunt My speech. The Academy Dinner. Chubb I hadn’t planned on calling. I saw your light was on. Blunt Yes. I suppose it’s what you'd call a function. Chubb Who was there? Blunt Oh, everybody. Including your boss. We chatted. Do you not get invited to occasions like that? Chubb No. Blunt You should. Chubb [d feel a bit lost. Blunt Oh, I don’t think so. They were all there. Chubb Who? Blunt The great and the good. Everybody on your list. Your little list. Chubb Anyway, I don’t have the clothes. Blunt Clothes are the least of it. Your wife would like it. Plenty to goggle at. And in the absence of the public one can see the art. Drink? Chubb Thank you. I came to give you a warning. There is a time coming, soon, when your anonymity will cease to be in any practical sense useful. 349ALAN BENNETT Blunt Yes, yes, yes. Chubb You must understand that your situation does not improve with time. More and more questions are being asked. The wolves, if you like, are getting closer. We may have to throw you off our sledge now. The consequences will be embarrassing, and not only for you. For us too. It will be painful. You will be the object of scrutiny, explanations sought after, your history gone into. You will be named. Attributed. Blunt And as a fake I shall, of course, excite more intérest than the genuine article. Chubb There is someone else. Someone behind you all. All the evidence points to it. Blunt The evidence! Once upon a time, when Berenson began his pioneer work of listing and attributing the paintings of the Italian Renaissance, he would sometimes come across groups of works in which he detected a family resemblance. They pointed to the existence of artists to whom he could not give a name. And there was one, a group of drawings, that resembled — but were not — the work of Botticelli. So he called the putative author of these drawings Amico di Sandro — the friend of Botticelli. But as the work of attribution progressed, Berenson came to see that these drawings were actually the early work of the Florentine painter, Filipino Lippi. There was no Amico di Sandro. He had been invented to fit the evidence, but he did not exist. Chubb It’s funny you should mention Berenson. I’ve just got on to him. Fascinating chap. Only wasn’t there another group of paintings he was puzzled about? Of the Mother and Child? Same situation, they resembled one another in style but he couldn’t put a name to the artist. The one element they all had in common was that the Christ child wasn’t portrayed as the usual torpid, 350A QUESTION OF ATTRIBUTION overweight infant but as a real, live wriggling baby. So this process of attribution called into being a painter Berenson called the Maestro del Bambino Vispo . . . the painter of the wriggling baby. I've not got very far in my studies in art history, of course, and you'll correct me if I’m wrong, but that attribution . . . the Maestro del Bambino Vispo still stands. He did exist. Blunt Yes. That’s right. He did. But whether your man existed, or still exists, is a different matter. But very good. You might have made an art historian. Chubb Yes? Did I miss my way? Blunt Not really. Both our professions carry the same risks, after all. . .a barrenness of outlook, a pedantry that verges on the obsessive, a farewell to commonsense, the rule of the hobby horse. You with your hobby horse, me with mine. Chubb punches up the X-ray of the fifth man. Chubb Who are they all? Blunt Oh no, not more photographs. (He looks round at the screen.) I’m sorry. I thought they were yours, not mine. When I was in the security service art used to be a haven, you know. A refuge. In the silly, knowing jargon of the spy story, a safe house. Not so safe now. Everybody’s into art. Chubb Including me. Blunt Still, I think it will last my time. But who are they all2 (Blunt switches the slide off.) 1 don’t know that it matters. Behind them lurk other presences, other hands. A whole gallery of possibilities. The real Titian an Allegory of Prudence. The false one an Allegory of Supposition. It is never-ending. Chubb and Blunt sit looking at one another for a long moment before the lights fade. 351Photo by Tom Miller Saber and faber Kafka’s Dick “Bennett is a courageous and gifted writer: no one since Shaw has had the guts to include a finale set in Heaven which resembles some awful publishing party-cum-tea-dance at the Savoy, or mix up so many fundamentally serious ideas about the importance — or lack of it - of art and artists in our gossip-prone, disordered lives with so much engaging theatrical capering.’ Time Out The Insurance Man ‘A rich and uncategorisable work, a sort of homage to and explanation of Kafka.’ Observer The Old Country ‘It is written in language that is at once a feast for the ear, the mind and the aesthetic sense. Mr Bennett 7 writes beautifully . . . his prose is virile and bright,~ — but it is shaped by a master of English, and - more important — one who clearly loves his native tongue and revels in its infinite scope and flexibility” Sunday Times An Englishman Abroad “Witty, stylish, acute and humane... . Bennett confirms his status as not just our funniest but also our finest contemporary playwright.’ Independent A Question of Attribution ‘A Question of Attribution raises profound questions about the teasing unfathomability of both art and espionage and emerges as a minor masterpiece,* Guardian é ‘Cover image: White Cup and Saucer, 1864 by Ignace Henri Jean Fantin-Latour (1836-1904) Fitzwilliam Museum, University of Cambridge Courtesy of the Bridgeman Art Library, London.